Summer Time
by drunknalley
Summary: A school reunion goes wrong when the ship approaches Rook Islands. It's inhabitants decide to take a blind shot and play it stupidly rich to survive. Pairings will be all over the place. Reviews with constructive criticism are welcome but not required.


Chapter 1

The gunshots came early and took us by surprise. The boat that was supposedly our home during the length of the trip let out a loud metallic wail and stopped. We were near a beautiful tropical island and Vlad, the tallest among us, screamed that the beach was full with armed men from where he climbed to get a bird's view of the land. I could see our teacher's eyes cloud with fear. I knew she was going to try playing it cool and sounding secure and in charge; I think we all knew. After all, you don't gain the respect of stuck up assholes that easily, but she had managed it... Somehow.

"Children! Don't worry, there's... Hm! Nothing to be afraid of... Let's all... Let's all regroup downstairs!

I loved how she still called us children. It was as if we didn't spend the last two weeks smoking, drinking like bottomless holes and loudly...proving ourselves as adults all over the ship. Old habits die hard I guess...

"I said let's all regroup downstairs Ioana!"

I mentally patted myself on the back for that monologue and hauled ass through the metallic door that loudly closed after me. Everyone seemed down with the weather. The boys were loudly announcing the groups of boats that had begun sailing towards us, and proudly proclaiming that they weren't gonna deal with that shit. Our mentor was silently pacing in a corner of the room, looking worried as hell. I edged closer to her. In my mind the solution to our problem was simple. But just in my mind. The chatter in the cabin had started and I was patiently waiting for the older woman's inevitable outburst. My waiting was fruitful.

"SILENCE! What, ten minutes into a situation like this, ten minutes of silence? That's all you can do...?"

Next to her, I couldn't contain my grin.

"We gotta think of something! We ain't dying like this... I survived four years with you assholes just to lose everything in some...some..."

A wave of sobs threatened to overwhelm her but was interrupted by a loud, metallic scratching sound. It seemed like a wake up call for our dear mentor, whose face rose, eyes glinting.

"Anyone got a plan?"

Some timid hands were raised in a scene reminiscent of our old school days. My mind effectively blocked all words that were uttered though, so I am unable to reproduce any of my friend's, of course genial plans. I was set on one and only plan, plan which I had to wait until the last moment to say. I waited for the sound of boots above us and sprung into action.

"You are a pimp!"

I got slapped. C'est la vie...

"No really, you are a rich, Romanian pimp who is here to buy..."

"What?" she asked, arching her eyebrow.

"We'll see..." I muttered just loud enough for her to hear me.

I had a feeling she wanted to slap me again. I waited. She hesitated.

"Who are you then?"

"Your children!"

"All of you? You are 34..."

"It will be fine! Trust me..."

"OK, but what will stop them from killing us anyway?"

"Business will."

"What business?"

"Tell them you will buy whatever they sell from them. You know, business!"

She stared at me in disbelief. Then shook her head.

"We'll... God, I can't believe I'm saying this! We'll give it a go!"

At that very moment, another loud noise signaled us that whoever was on deck was ramming in the door.

"Let's go!" I said to the mentor.

"Where?"

"To put on your best suit of course!". Turning to Cristina who happened to be sitting next to me I whispered: "Tell everyone they can change their clothes if they want. Preferably something expensive. And fast."

Seconds later I stood in my mentor's cabin as she chose her suit. I turned my back to her with the utmost respect and crossed my arms.

"Ma'am why did you say yes? Was my plan really the best we could come up with?"

A short silence followed.

"Call it a gut feeling Ioana, and stop questioning yourself! I'll take this cane too. A business woman isn't a business woman without her cane, I think. What about you?"

Shrugging I took of my shirt and threw it into the corner of the room, remaining in only a pair of simple jean shorts. I was very lanky and skinny, so tits weren't a problem with me.

We returned to the main cabin just as the door was slammed to the wall. I felt my mentor tensing up.

I was worried. I no longer thought my idea was going to work. The complete blank look on my mentor's face seemed proof enough.

Out of the very colorful group of men which had poured in, the chief color stepped out.

"Hello amigos..."

Before he could say anything else, my mentor's cane was swung and had hit him square in the face. A torrent of classical Romanian swears (that made me proud by the way) erupted from her mouth and, between my hysterical laughter fits, I could hear the sound of a shitload of guns being cocked. I struggled to stop and raised my hands in front of me, as the majority of my colleagues gathered around us. In Romanian, I yelled to the older woman to shut up and, when she kept on her way I shook her and shouted louder, almost managing to start an argument. I looked at the savage looking man in front of us: jaw tight, eyes reduced to slits, fists clenched - oh, he was pissed. Not breaking eye contact with my mentor, not even blinking, he stepped closer until he was literally millimeters away from her.

"Who the fuck are you?!" he screamed, his voice breaking a little.

Playing her role perfectly, my mentor began spewing incredibly vulgar and almost nonsensical Romanian innuendo, again. The girls behind me had started laughing and as through a haze I saw the man's hand rising to hit. Without thinking I grabbed the nearest person and threw it between them. That person happened to be girl named Cati, who took the hit like a pro. And by that, I mean she fell to the floor and didn't stand up. I let my shock overcome me for just a few seconds then, keeping my act up I scratched the bald side of my head muttering "she's OK". The man seemed to of heard me as he turned and pulled me next to him.

"Finally, hermana! Someone who speaks a real tongue!" he laughed, and placed a handgun to my forehead. "Now who are you?"

My thoughts were racing. I kept telling myself that I had too keep my act up but the fact was that the cold hard metal pressed to my head was scaring me out of my mind. I glanced at my mentor.

"This..." I said moving my hand towards the woman with a theatrical gesture. "...is Miss O. She is owner of the much respected line of...clubs, The Blue Ribbon." In Romanian I asked 'O' what were we doing here. Obliging she explained. The man raised his eyebrows.

"We are here to do business. We are here to restock the clubs...". Soft mutters were heard in the crowd behind our teacher. The man's cold stare rendered me unable to realize if my vague words had helped us. The mutters soon became shouts and risking a lot, I broke out of his grasp and entered between my colleagues arguing the whole time. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the man rubbing his jaw. Soon he yelled for the other men to keep their eyes on us and exited the cabin, closing the door behind him.


End file.
